


Agape

by chasexjackson



Series: I heard about love [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Post Tartarus, a little bit of angst but not really because lbr this is a kiss meme, kiss meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasexjackson/pseuds/chasexjackson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>#5. Firm kiss.</p><p>There's very little that Annabeth hates more than feeling helpless. She's never been happy to sit on the sidelines while her friends walk into battle. And here she is, rendered helpless as the person she cares most about fights all by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agape

**Author's Note:**

> The title is one of my favourite songs by Bear's Den, which really reminds me of these two, and is also just a really beautiful song. Agape is Greek for love.

There's very little that Annabeth hates more than feeling helpless. She's never been happy to sit on the sidelines while her friends walk into battle. And here she is, rendered helpless as the person she cares most about fights all by himself.

Alright, he's not completely by himself, there's a satyr with him, but this does little to quell the worry in her heart.

“Why did _he_ have to go?” she asks Chiron for the hundredth time.

She's standing on the porch of the Big House, stance firm, arms crossed over her chest, scowl marking her face. Chiron sits next to her in his wheelchair and patiently explains to her, again, why it was Percy who left the camp to retrieve the lone demigod, unaware of his identity and hunted because of it, traipsing around Brooklyn.

“He's perfectly capable of looking after himself.”

“I know that,” Annabeth snaps, unable to help herself.

Chiron’s voice remains level, reasonable despite her sharp tone. “He was here when we needed someone, Annabeth. There was no reason for it not to be him.”

 _You should have called me_ , she wants to say. _I should have been here_ , she scolds herself.

“They should have been back by now,” she says instead.

Chiron murmurs vaguely in response.

Percy has fought without her many times before. He's been fighting since he was twelve years old and at seventeen, he's one of the best demigod fighters Camp Half Blood has seen. But that doesn't mean Annabeth won't worry about him. Because she's seen his very best and worst. She's seen his spiteful rage reduce him to a whirlwind of fury, only to be reclaimed to himself by her hands and her words. And she's seen the aftermath of a battle, she's seen him beaten to his knees, seen him drowning in a river with all hope torn away from him. She’s pulled him back to himself, both in the midst of battle, and out of it.

And now he’s out there without her.

Annabeth feels guilt creep into her chest, heavy and binding, with these thoughts. She hates that she doubts him, hates it with every part of her being. And she knows that she will not always be able to be there, but it’s been merely months since the war, since they dragged each other out of the swallowing darkness, and she doesn’t quite feel ready yet. Ready to trust that he will come back to her every time he leaves.

The other part of her simply misses him. She hadn’t woken up this morning expecting him to be gone and it opens up an old ache, a wound which never truly healed even after he returned to her. Those months had been spent with arms curled around her chest as if to hold it together, with bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep and relentless tears. She just wants him back, safe.

“Annabeth,” Chiron murmurs.

She looks up just in time to see three figures tripping over the boundary line next to Thalia’s tree. Peleus lifts his head and sniffs at them before tucking his head back under his wing and resuming his nap. Annabeth is frozen to the spot. They look fine. Percy’s figure, the tallest of the three, lopes easily down the hill. She watches as he touches the lid of his pen to his sword and it shrinks small enough to be tucked into his jeans pocket.

“Fetch some one from the Apollo cabin for me?” Chiron asks. Annabeth turns to him indignantly and he sighs. “Please, Annabeth. Nothing will happen in the sixty seconds it takes you to run over there and run back.”

She sends a glare his way before glancing again at Percy and his companions’ approaching figures, still too far away to make out any expressions or injuries, and turns her back on them to sprint down to the cabins. Chiron’s right, it takes her less than sixty seconds to run to the Apollo cabin, stick her head inside the door long enough to yell that someone needs to report to the medbay, and sprint back up to the big house.

She’s always been a fast runner.

The young demigod looks startled, his eyes are wide and staring as the satyr half-carries him past the porch of the big house towards the medbay. Annabeth spares them both a glance long enough to notice the blood trickling down the young boy’s wrist from underneath his jacket sleeve and the bruising on the satyr’s face, and then her attention is drawn away, to Percy. He’s talking quietly to Chiron, rubbing a dark mark on his cheek and spreading it further across his skin. It looks like dirt, not blood, to Annabeth’s relief. He’s frowning until he looks up and meets her eyes, and then his expression morphs from surprise to relief, and then to guilt.

Annabeth surges forwards anyway, grabbing him by the shoulders, firm, wide shoulders, tense and there and alive. _He’s alive_ . She wraps her arms around them and pulls him in close, feeling his breath rush out of him as their chests crash together. Percy’s arms come around her belatedly, and he rubs her back soothingly as if to say, _it’s okay, I’m here_. She loves him for that.

Annabeth withdraws from the circle of his arms and promptly whacks him on the shoulder.

“ _OW_.”

“That’s for playing hero.”

He scowls at her, rubbing his shoulder and opening his mouth to say something to her. Annabeth grabs his cheeks between her palms and kisses him firmly on the mouth, stopping his words of complaint in their tracks. It’s all tense lips and clacking teeth and quiet moans and it’s over in a moment as they both gasp for breath, foreheads pressed together.

“That’s for being a hero,” she mumbles.

Percy’s answering smile helps her heart settle in her chest. His hands stroke her cheeks, smearing dirt there, and he dips his head to kiss her again, more gently this time.

“I won’t go without you again. Promise.”

It’s a promise she knows he won’t keep, can’t keep; one she knows she can’t expect him to keep, but it makes her feel better anyway. It reminds her of his words as he clutched onto her wrist underneath Rome, the only thing preventing her falling alone into the seemingly endless pit, _We’re staying together. You’re not getting away from me. Never again._

And her answering promise, _As long as we’re together_.


End file.
